Author: Kannan Baskar
Another August!
Another August comes by Monsoon pellets dirty green lagoons, Thatched roofs leak, Rainwater plops on hot, reddish-brown Kattan Chaya An organic excess invades the secluded south Goan beaches The horizon is hardly distinct— the sun sets and rises from a mistiness August brings about green, profuse beginnings, Like the rains A month for new roles,…
Bunch of squares
Squares, they are floating Always in a cozy, crowded group Drifting without a point In a circular sea They’ve no depth, they’re just pieces Bits of flatness Senseless fragments— Their absorptive apparatus, wrecked beyond repair; They yell and bray out shallow nothings, In the language of the visually deaf Kites float in Adorn the air…
Sa Pa’s monotony
I stand in a sea of light Orange ripples lustre my fluid ground A red beckons— Pure in hue, pregnant with promise My raga floats away—that untold form Drifts gleefully unto the grainy beach— Away from my ruddy dream I am still standing— A porous pile robbed off its juice, Sans shape, sans curve, sans frills,…
A Summer afternoon…
That careless summer afternoon... Distant, as it may be, Still, fresh and earthy—hastily peeled Mango skin; Heavy, and clamorous—mostly—like the untimely Monsoon; Slender and fleeting—at times—as the Vaigai; Ever a part of me; It crushes me into a bloody rubble, often, But I, always, resurrect! My soul, pledged to this ceaseless vision, Perpetually in service…
Fragile souls…
Fragile souls, float about, dancing gingerly to a long lost tune.
Madurai in moments
These photographs of mine are old. Pandemic has distorted the charm of my home town. This slide show is a tribute to its remarkable vigor. The BGM is from the film Charulatha, Charu's theme, composed by Satyajit Ray.
The Biryani
Charred remains of auburn onion: Inviting network of rightly burnt brown. Precisely steamed bits of fluffy rice: A long lost Jasmine courtyard. Restlessly sweating, juicy succulents— Mutton—mingled in spicy nectar. Biryani: A sensory feast in layers. A piece of subcontinent’s accrued humanity
भीड़ के बीच अकेला
छोटा सफ़र हो लम्बा सफ़र हो सूनी डगर हो या मेला याद तू आए, मन हो जाए भीड़ के बीच अकेला...